I finished my beer, got up and moved on. Suddenly the rain upped a gear, people rushed to shelter in shop doorways, scurrying along, holding newspapers over their heads. I ended up under the awning of a noodle bar. The menu in the window was in Japanese only, but the pictures of noodles looked good and I was pretty hungry so I decided to go for it. Mind you, I had some major problems ordering. None of the staff understood English and I briefly contemplated sacking it and heading off to find a burger, but I thought that was a bit lame, so I persevered. With a bit of miming and pointing I managed to score some chicken noodle soup. I looked a little ridiculous flapping my arms and pecking at the ground and shit, but they seemed to get my drift and, as the food was excellent, a little amusement for the locals seemed a small price to pay.